


Heatwave

by Polarbaroness (MaryTheMango)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: John Seed's airplane print swim trunks, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 15:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryTheMango/pseuds/Polarbaroness
Summary: It's too hot to fight.





	Heatwave

It’s a hot day in Montana- it almost reminds him of sweltering under the hot Georgian sun, minus the humidity.

He’d never cared for the heat- old man Seed had often locked him and his brothers out of the house on the hotter summer days. Sometimes he wondered if he was trying to kill them- outside, no access to water besides the creek outflow from a nearby farm, it was a recipe for illness.  
He was honestly surprised none of them had keeled over, though John knew he had come close.

John remembers at one point he got heat stroke- he woke up in the hospital, surrounded by his brothers, father nowhere in sight. It was the safest he’d felt for a long time, and it would continue to be one of the happiest memories he’d have.

Seed had taken it out on him afterwards- the money for the hospital trip had cut into his booze allowance. Not even Jacob had been able to distract him from it.

After he was John Duncan, heat became a warning of hellfire, what his “parents” would threaten him with if he didn’t repent. (It was never enough, never enough to quench the flames)

So, moving to Montana seemed like a sign- he had come through, pure, would never have to worry about hellfire again.

But then Montana had to have its damn heatwave-80 degrees at 10 am, what sort of Hell was this- and he was right back in Georgia, face down on the tile floors, trying anything to get cool.

Oh, his ranch had AC alright, but it was just his luck that it was broken, shot by the fucking Deputy during their plane theft.

He was down to his last thread of sanity, stripped of everything but his boxers, splayed out on the floor of his home like some fucking mangy dog, as many fans as he could muster up pointed directly at him.

It still wasn’t enough.

He groaned when the radio crackled; he should’ve turned it off, but he wanted it open just in case…just in case the Deputy finally wanted to confess.

“John,” the crackly voice came from the receiver, “You there?”

“Why yes I am, Dep-yu-ty. Are you calling to confess? A radio channel isn’t very.. private, I’m afraid.”

“Cut it with the cult bullshit for one fuckin second.” John got the feeling if it weren’t for the outrageous temperatures they’d be yelling, showing that Wrath that was such an integral part of their being. It almost disappointed him, hearing them so subdued.

“"I’m sure you know it’s not bullshit…but how can I resist such a polite request? How can I help you, Deputy?”

“Look. I’m sure you’re aware of the temperature. Fuckin no one is in the condition to fight, except maybe Jacob, the crazy bastard. Poor Cheeseburger won’t even eat, and for a diabetic bear that’s pretty terrifyin.”

There’s a pause as the Deputy gathers their thoughts, though he’s sure he knows where their little rant is going.

“ So, I’m proposing a cease fire. As long as the temp’s over…let’s say 92, just to be safe about it, I won’t shoot your Peggies, blow up any silos, or otherwise cause my typical brand of mischief.”

He waited for a second before responding- they’d mentioned their part of the deal, but.. “And what, may I ask, would you get out of it?”

“Your Peggies won’t shoot me or Resistance members, all kidnappings will be paused, no pokin around the town.”

They pause again, and continue.

“And I know there’s an uncontaminated Creek in your neck of the woods. I want access to it- just me, maybe Peaches and Cheeseburger so you don’t feel tempted to renege. Oh, and your presence.”

He’s speechless, for once, and so the Deputy continues.

“You can leave your stupid bunker key at home, if you’re worried I’d take it, but I want you in my presence so I know y'aint pullin any funny business. I know I’d have a bear and a cougar with me, but the entire place is under your control, and I don’t like my odds without em.”

He feels oddly complimented by the Deputy’s caution, that they recognize him as a dangerous opponent. It’s enough, when combined with brain melting heat, to convince him.

“Show up at the ranch in two hours. Unarmed. I’ll let my people know about the ceasefire. Bring along your pets, if you must. I’ll be waiting, Deputy.”

—–

As noon drew closer, John began to second guess himself. Surely this was a trap? The Deputy just wanted to catch him, humiliate him..but no, subterfuge wasn’t his Deputy’s way. They were more a guns blazing type, running headlong into trouble and not stopping til they came out the other side.

So he paced, rarely worn flip-flops smacking the tile of his kitchen as he waited, glancing out the window occasionally to see if they’d arrived.

As promised, he’d had the guards at the gate leave- they’d return once they left, of course, he’d be stupid not to leave the ranch guarded in his absence, but for now they were taking a well deserved break in the shade.

Finally, finally he heard the crunching of gravel under wheels, and knew his Deputy had arrived. He glanced out the window to confirm- they’d rolled up in one of the Project’s vehicles, stolen and insignia painted over with a rather bad smiley face, a huge bear in the bed of the truck.

‘That must be Cheeseburger,“ he mused, reassuring the guards that yes, the Deputy was supposed to be there.

They pulled to a stop in the driveway, kicking the door open and grabbing..something before sliding out.

They hadn’t bothered to wear clothes over their swim suit, he noticed. They were also, amusingly, wearing hiking boots, flip flops in one hand, basket in the other. Always prepared.

He stepped out of his house, confident lawyer face firmly in place as he walked up to greet the Deputy.

They smiled awkwardly at him as he drew closer, finally stopping a good few feet in front of them. Cheeseburger had exited the truck’s bed and was currently sniffing the air curiously.

"I must admit, I looked all over my map for the creek you mentioned, and I wasn’t able to find it,” he started, slipping his tinted glasses over his eyes. “It concerns me that you know my property better than I.”

They snorted in response- it was almost charming, in a sort of uncouth way.

“Yeah, I’ve lived here all my life. These used to be my stompin grounds growin up. Personal experience is way more useful than any map. So c'mon, let’s get movin. ”

—

They’d led him deep into the woods, deep enough he was starting to worry he’d been tricked, when he finally heard water. Evidently they’d heard it too, looking back at him with a heart stopping grin and picking up the pace.

It was a nice enough little place, he guessed- he much preferred a well defined, man made pool, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The creek was wide and deep, with cut away banks that gave away just how old it was, roots and vines creating the perfect hideaway. He followed the Deputy to a clearing where rocks and logs, worn away by activity, surrounded a fire pit. They set down the basket, pulling out a large, well worn towel and spreading it out before removing various bottled drinks from the depths.

“You seem like you’ve done this before,” he observed, sitting on a log to remove his outer wear.

“Yeah, like I said…these were the stompin grounds. Surprised you never found em, though, there’s a pretty well worn path.”

He chuckled. “It may surprise you to hear this, but I’m not really the outdoor type. That’s my brother’s domain.”

They snorted again, tossing him a bottle of water. “Nah, couldn’t tell, what with the fancy house. You definitely fooled me.”

He could feel their eyes burning over him, cataloging all the scars. He wouldn’t hide- he wasn’t ashamed, they were his penance, his proof of righteousness. 

Soon enough, the Deputy stopped their perusal and sprang to their feet, walking past him on the way to the creek. They clapped his shoulder almost instinctively, like he was a friend,and he had to admit he liked it.

Tossing the water bottle to the ground, he stood up from the rock and followed the Deputy into the blessedly cold water.

**Author's Note:**

> I bet his swim trunks have airplanes on em. Fuckin dork. 
> 
> I would've included a scene about it but I figured I'd hit a good place to end, and really I shouldn't be doing this at work anyway. 
> 
> Visit me on Tumblr (polarbaroness) if you'd like to argue about whether John wears boxers or briefs.


End file.
